


Distrust

by marvinwhizzer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Early in Canon, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Paranoia, Pining, Pre-Slash, early S2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23553730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvinwhizzer/pseuds/marvinwhizzer
Summary: Martin confronts Jon about his odd behavior recently. [MAG45]
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	Distrust

**Author's Note:**

> i'm only up to mag 45 but i wrote this last night in a fervor because i am feeling a feeling over jon's paranoia, i want him to have a friend that he can trust and i want it to be martin. ive seen 0 spoilers except that jonmartin is apparently canon or at least very close to being canon? so listening to everything for the first time with the awareness of that has been interesting and implanting ideas into my head about some super secret mutual pining--involving the reason jon finds martin so annoying being bc he's a repressed dummy and doesnt know how to deal with his FEELINGS for him. anyway this is like barely shippy at all but it is... whatever it is. *kisses this gently then places it in ur hands* pls dont spoil anything for me in the comments but feel free to leave kind words if u enjoyed this. welcome to the tma brainrot zone.

"Jon?"

Jon froze. He looked up to see Martin, peering around the door at him. He started to sweat.

"What are you doing?" Martin asked.

"It's nothing to be concerned about, Martin, I was just..." Jon trailed off. He found himself unable to come up with any kind of relevant excuse for what he was doing down on the floor. Luckily, he hadn't lifted the floorboard up just yet, so his hiding place could still remain safe, but he was holding his top secret tapes in his hand, and Martin could definitely see them. He thought he had been doing better at hiding all this, at covering his tracks, but it'd been getting harder and harder. He wasn't sleeping well, and he didn't feel safe anywhere—not even here in the archives, like he once had. And being paranoid all the time was starting to have its side effects. Not being sure when an immediate threat was real or not caused him to make mistakes in judgement. In this case, he had truly convinced himself that Martin had gone home when he had said he was going to, not seeing any reason why he would lie about something like that. Apparently, he had been wrong. He was getting things wrong increasingly more often recently, so it seemed. He felt like he may be going mad, truth be told.

"...Jon?"

Jonathan realized that he had paused, and had been staring off into space for ... some time now. Probably only a few seconds, but he honestly wasn't sure.

"Nothing, Martin, I just...dropped some tapes on the floor. I was...I was picking them up. Yes."

"Sure, sure," said Martin. "Of course." Jon could tell from his tone that Martin didn't believe him, but he was being polite anyway. Jon resented it. He could hear that sickening intonation of worry in his voice. And... something else. Was that fear, maybe? Tiredness? He didn't know.

Jon held onto the tapes he had been about to stash and stood. He looked Martin in the face and he was forced to _see_ the worry, written all over his features.

"Jon, are you...are you alright?"

"I'm just fine, Martin."

He brushed past him and over to his desk, grabbing his shoulder bag. He stored the tapes in one of the pockets, decidedly not feeling comfortable leaving them in the institute overnight.

Martin hesitated, clearly noticing his unusual behaviour. "You sure?"

"I'm _sure_."

Resentment dripped from Jon's voice, and it should have made Martin recoil, back off, but instead Jon saw him move in front of the doorway, blocking his exit.

"I'm worried about you, Jon."

Jon inhaled sharply, saying his next words pointedly and through gritted teeth. "There's nothing to be worried about, Martin, I'm fine."

Martin ignored this. "You've been acting… _weird_ lately, and, well--"

"I'm _fine_ , Martin."

Martin stood firmly in his place in front of the door. Jon was cornered, and his insistence on being "fine" clearly wasn't going to be cutting it any longer.

"You've been... sort of jumpy lately, which is well and understandable, after all the things we just went through, what with the whole... worm thing, and... Well, you know. You haven't been... down in the tunnels again, have you? I know, I know, I should trust that you said you wouldn't, I know, I'm not- I'm not calling you a liar, or anything, it's just..."

"Get on with it."

"Right. Sorry. You didn't answer my question, though. Have you been?"

"I haven't," Jon lied.

"Right... See, the thing is, the other day... I-I was looking for a pen, is all, and I ended up in your drawer, and I saw there were these tapes..."

Jon paled, but he did his very best not to react outwardly. If Martin didn't see that he was distraught about the tapes then he would have no reason to suspect anything. Making tapes was what Jon _did_ — well, one of the things anyway. Martin would have no reason to suspect anything was out of the ordinary, unless he had listened to them.

"...and they were labelled, like, 'supplemental', which struck me as odd, because normally you do all your supplementals on the same tapes as the statements themselves. I found it, I dunno, a bit weird that you would need to put it on a seperate tape. But that in itself wasn't all that weird, I mean, I don't mean to question what you do as Head Archivist, it doesn't matter to me, not really. I didn't actually even take note of it as being weird at the time. It wasn't until a few days ago, when I came in to ask if you wanted tea and I saw you talking into that recorder, hours after you should have been finished working. And again, that alone wouldn't have been _off_ , exactly, not for you… You seem like you're always working. But..."

Jon clenched his teeth. He didn't want to hear this. "Martin..."

"But it was what I heard you _saying_. You were talking about Tim, into your recorder. And you were looking at-at these photographs of him, and it was weird--"

"I was _there_ , Martin, you don't need to be telling me all of this," Jon snapped. "Get to the point."

"My point, Jon, is that I'm worried about you. And I want you to tell me what's on those tapes. And what's going on with you." Martin seemed afraid, but he was taking a firmer stand than Jon would've expected.

"N-nothing's going on with me, really."

"Rubbish. I've seen it. I've seen how paranoid you've been, and how sleep-deprived you've been." Martin's voice wavered just a little under Jon's cold stare. "You're not fooling me."

Jon had shifted from intimidation to straight up pleading as he made his next futile attempt to brush off Martin's concerns. He just wanted to go home and not have to deal with this. "I'm fine."

"Jon..." Martin looked him in the eyes, considering that plea. Jon felt like he was seeing right through him, and he wanted to scream, and yell, and push him away. He wasn't safe here. He wasn't safe anywhere. He was getting sick of it. The walls were closing in on him worse up here than they had been in the sprawling, smirking tunnels below them. He wasn't expecting Martin's next words, somehow.

"I want to help," Martin said. "I know what you've been through. I want you to know that I... that I'm here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I...what?"

"I'm still feeling unsafe at home these days, too. And I put on a brave face when I come into work—we all do—but... I need you to know that you're safe with me. I'm no expert, of course, but it seems to me like you're having issues with...trust. I know what it's like to feel paranoid all the time, and I just wanted you to know... that I'm in your corner. Okay?"

Part of him wanted to break, to give in to Martin's assurances—God knows he needed it—to crumble, to melt into someone's arms and cry his problems into their shoulder… But he would remain vigilant. He had to hold onto his wariness. He had to, in order to survive. As much as the softness in Martin's face and the deep concern in his gentle brown eyes tempted him, Jon would do everything in his power to resist.

"Okay," he replied simply. Apparently that was more than enough to appease the stupid man, for his face broke out in a smile, all toothy and much too pleasant. Jon found himself having to look away. "Thanks," he grumbled, hoping his ungratefulness shone through his words.

"As long as you know that."

"Yes."

"Okay. Good."

They stood there for a moment, the silence hanging between them heavily, weighing them down like dampened cloth.

"I, ehm." Martin rubbed his arm—a common sign of his nervousness. "Before you go, I... just wanted to ask you, as well..."

Jon didn't have the energy to make a snappy remark. He just looked at Martin, expectantly. He knew he would ramble on and on before getting to the damned point, he knew he would. And all the while he would soften Jon up, endearing himself to him, so that he could strike when he was most unwitting. Martin and his stupid roundabout way of speaking...his distracting tone changes...the way his voice got all high when he was nervous... Oh. It struck Jon that he hadn't been listening. When he tuned back into what Martin was saying, some truly horrible information was being lain on him.

"...can't deny it, Jon, I _heard_ you talking about me."

"Yes, well…" Jon started. "The silence in here can get a little… heavy. I do sometimes tend to put in my own _personal quips_ into the statements, I apologize if it may be a tad… unprofessional."

"It's okay if you don't trust me," Martin said all of a sudden.

Jon wasn't sure what to say to that. He met Martin's eyes. He seemed so...sincere. It was hard to imagine that he could be the one who was out to kill him. But one could never know, he reminded himself. One was never safe.

He tried to force the sentimental thoughts out of his mind, but he was so, _so_ deeply tired. Maybe he would consider the possibility of having Martin as an ally.

"I would like you to trust me… but it's okay if you don't. I understand. I know we aren't exactly... _friends_ , but I want to leave the offer open that I'm here for you, any time, any place. Okay? Don't hesitate."

"Thanks," Jon said again, this time no sense of unpleasantness remaining in his tone. "I… I haven't been myself lately, you're right. Things have been...getting to me, quite a bit, I think. I'll...try to keep that in mind."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Martin smiled his _stupid_ smile again. It made Jon's gut lurch. He tried to ignore the fact that it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling.

"Go home now, Jon. And get some rest, okay?"

"Okay."

Jon lingered in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what was coming over him. His fingers twitched. He turned around to look back at Martin again. "You...try to get some rest, too," he mumbled.

Martin's smile grew wider, and Jon had to avert his eyes to combat the _feeling_ he was almost feeling.

"Of course, Jon. Thank you!"

"Good night, Martin," said Jon, and he turned and left immediately.


End file.
